Do you know how some people are terrified of going to a hospital or clinic, even if they have a serious condition? I never really understood this fear, however, a recent event convinced me that they might have a very good reason to be afraid.

A few days before Easter, I caught a bad case of flu. It wasn't so bad at the first day, just a soarness of the throat and a mild fever. I insisted on going to work the next morning despite feeling a little queasy, however, my condition soon worsened to the point that I had to be sent home from the office. My family was visiting relatives during the holiday so I was alone during the whole ordeal, accompanied only by my neighbour and friend, Matthew. For the duration of the next day, I was lying at home with a 40 degree celsius fever, alternating between bouts of coughing and dry heaving. I was in this state until late at night, when Matthew convinced me to go see a doctor.

My family physician was on a vacation, so I had to see a local physician in attendance. The clinic was a ran-down, sorry-looking building at the edge of the town, but it was the only place to get professional help that time of year. It was around ten at the evening when I got into the doctor's office. The doctor, a friendly, young man with a prematurely balding head, probably in his twenties greeted me. I took off my shirt so he could check my chest with a stethoscope. The doctor, however politely asked me to remove my jeans and underpants as well. He said that it's the only professional way medically to check my body heat rectally. I thought this was a little strange, but I was so weakened because of my illness that I felt no strength to argue with him, so I complied. So I was lying there, completely helpless and vulnerable as the doctor began his work. After several minutes that felt like long hours, I began to get suspicious. The doctor kept fumbling around my anus and soon I began to feel a terrible plain. Shaking with fear, I looked behind me and witnessed a terrible sight.

The young doctor was wearing a nurse's suit and he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a bearded man wearing civilian clothing, a twisted smile on his face. The doctor spread my anus into a unimaginable size using tongue depressors. Behind him, the strange man was grinning maniacally, preparing to insert his own head right into my body. Before I could do anything, the doctor stabbed a syringe into my neck. I watched in terror as he pumped some kind of brown, washy liquid into my veins. I felt my body getting paralyzed, my eyelids getting heavy; soon I lost my consciousness.

I woke up in a hospital bed. A friendly nurse told me that I will soon be getting better and that I was diagnoses with an ugly case of pneumonia. Suddenly, it hit me: the whole ordeal must have been a nightmare, a vision of my ill, exhausted mind. The watchful doctor probably rushed me into the hospital as soon as I lost consciousness. Relieved, I rested my head on the pillow, turning towards the bedside cabinet. On the cabinet, I noticed a business card that said: "dr. Richard Sedthhfy, recognized fecal-pneumologyst, chartered flautence-internist". My hands were shaking as I put tha card down. Suddenly, I began to feel a strong urge to cough again, then I realized I can't breathe anymore. I covered my mouth with my hands and began to chuckle, liquid feces coming from my lungs, dripping out of my mouth. Looking up I saw a balding top of a head rising insidiously from behind the end of my bed...